


Auditing Women's Studies (0 credits)

by LilacFree



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-22
Updated: 2010-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacFree/pseuds/LilacFree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester walked into a bar wearing in women's clothing.  Cracky-crack.  Just a tinge of non-con.  Set somewhere mid season 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Auditing Women's Studies (0 credits)

  
"You know, I kind of look like Buffy. Except my nose is prettier."  
Sam said sourly, "If you like yourself so much why don't you marry yourself?"  
Dean turned away from studying the mirror and smirked as Sam averted his eyes from her -- yes, her, definitely a girl, Dean felt completely like a girl -- bra. Her well-filled bra. "If only, Sammy, if only."  
Sam got up abruptly. "I'm going to be so glad when this wears off at dawn. Why don't I leave you alone so you can curl your eyelashes?" he suggested as he headed for the door.  
Dean called after him, "I bet they didn't cover this in your Women's Studies class at Stanford!"  
Sam slammed the door.  


o O o

  
Okay, now, admittedly, Dean had made her share of homophobically tinged gay jokes. However, in the shadowy world of monsters, demons, and angels where she lived, she didn't grudge anyone what shape of uglies they chose to go bump together in the night as long as all the bumpees were consenting adults. A witch had cursed Dean Winchester, thinking he was some uptight sexist who wouldn't be able to cope as a woman. Dean had had no trouble punching the witch in the face. Equal rights, baby.  
The woman that looked back at Dean out of the mirror was definitely Dean. There was no weird feeling of being a guy in a chick's body. She was the chick and she was down with that. Dean the woman was tall, athletic, flat belly, great legs; had a damn fine rack.  
She came to a realization. "This cannot go to waste. It is against God. Or should be." (One of the many annoying thing about discovering the dickery of angels was losing the unthinking references to Providence.) Dean Winchester the man had a rep of being a sex god. Dean Winchester the woman was going to live up to her greatest talent if it killed Sammy.  
Dean giggled. It felt good.  
Dean Winchester walked into a bar wearing women's clothing. She had grabbed a few things from the witch's closet, because her male clothing had managed to fit like a tent and at the same time still chafe her in tender places. The bra turned out to be a bad fit, so she had done without it. That left her with a t-shirt, cargo pants, and flip flops--the latter purchased at a drug store. The witch had been four inches shorter and the flip flops were the only things that fit loosely on Dean.  
_Shaving her legs and pits had been a bizarre experience, but when she felt the smooth skin, she was glad she'd stuck to the same standards she'd like to see from a woman when she was a man. That was fair, wasn't it?_  
So, Dean Winchester, hot chick, walked into a bar. Sammy spotted her instantly and nearly poked his own eye out with a pool cue. A guy wolf-whistled and Dean glared in the direction of the sound and made a note to not do that when she was a man again. She went up to the bar and ordered a whiskey with a beer chaser. Just because she was a woman was no reason to start drinking chick drinks. That would be like trading in the Impala for a BMW, and some things stayed the same the more they changed.  
"Ma'am, it would be an honor for me if you would let me buy you that drink." A young man came up beside her. Dean checked him out. Clean, good breath, wore a buttoned-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and filled out his jeans nicely.  
"I like friendly people," she said. "I'm Dean, nice to meet you." She offered a handshake.  
He passed the handshake test too: firm, not clammy. "Mike, Mike Echols," he said, giving her that smile she knew he practiced in front of mirrors.  
_Mike Echols... Michael... _ Dean froze for a moment.  
"Is something wrong, Dina?"  
"Dean. No, nothing. " The Archangel Michael was not hitting on her in a bar. Her life was not that weird yet; if it was she was just going to keep shooting herself until Heaven and Hell gave up on her. "Are you from around here?"  
Sam came up on her other side and leaned in, muttering, "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"  
Mike frowned at what he thought was competition, and Dean said hastily, "My brother, Sam. We're just passing through, be gone tomorrow, needed to unwind, so: here we are. Sammy, go play pool." She elbowed him hard.  
"I need a drink first. Double bourbon, please," Sam said to the bartender.  
Dean smiled sweetly. She could feel it from the inside, that smile she'd seen on women's faces that meant they were waiting patiently for an annoying man to go away while trying to keep the non-annoying man there with eye contact.  
Mike was definitely getting the message. Good thing, there were only 7 more hours until dawn and Dean didn't want to waste any of them.  
Sam got his drink and fled back to the pool table.  
"So you're the big sister? You don't look old enough to have a brother that big," Mike threw out a conversational gambit and Dean threw it right back.  
"Yeah, I'm the big sister, and I don't do small talk. Want to come back to my room?"  
Mike nearly dropped his drink, and then his wallet in his haste to pay the tab. They headed out the door two minutes later. Dean waved reassuringly at Sammy, who failed to look even a little bit reassured.  


o O o

  
The motel was a block over from the bar. Mike cut through an alley. Dean wasn't surprised: Mike wanted to be sure she was going to come across and she had every intention of reassuring _him_.  
He tried some sweet talk; he pulled her into him and told her she had the most beautiful green eyes he'd ever seen.  
Dean wasn't quite sure what to say to that. To lean up against a man felt pleasantly different, and the sensations at once new and familiar made it hard to think straight.  
Then he groped her tit and without thinking twice she kneed him in the balls then rabbit punched him in the back of the neck as he went down.  
As Mike lay groaning at her feet (she'd blown a flip-flop) Dean came to a realization. "Men suck," she said, horrified and never guessing that she'd just made an A in Women's Studies.  
"Dean?"  
That low, gravelly voice was unmistakable. Castiel approached her from the mouth of the alley. There was something different about him. Dean stared, trying to make it out, then as Castiel held her gaze she understood. He hadn't looked at her body.  
"You bitch," Mike said weakly.  
Castiel looked down at Mike, then up at her. He blinked, then looked again, and Dean was convinced it had taken that long for him to notice she was a woman now. He'd known her without doubt or need to refer to mere physical appearance.  
She still had his handprint on her shoulder, else she would have worn the tank top.  
"I think it's time to leave," she said, and she should have known better. Castiel reached out and *poof* the Angel Express had brought them back to the motel room, leaving Mike with a sore neck, sore balls, and a flip flop. He probably wouldn't be trying to find a girl that fit it.  


o O o

  
"Sam called me. He said a witch had cursed you and it might be affecting your mind."  
"Is it?"  
Castiel took her by the shoulders and stared at her with those deep blue eyes. Then he stepped back. "You seem normal to me."  
Dean blinked, feeling a slow smile warm her face. "Yeah, still me in here, Cas." Her cell buzzed, and she picked it up. "Dammit, Samantha."  
"What the hell?" said the startled voice of Bobby Singer. Dean had had enough. She shoved the phone at Cas, who took it.  
"Hello, Bobby. Dean is a woman right now and she does not want to talk to you."  
Dean wasn't sure what Bobby said, but it was definitely not church-safe.  
"Sam is drinking," Cas told Bobby. Before he hung up, Bobby said something blasphemous enough to make Cas frown.  
Dean drummed her fingers on her taut thigh. Castiel's unique phone skills were just what was needed. "Call Sam, and tell him I'm fine and you're with me." Little wheels turned in Dean's brain.  
Castiel dialed Sam. Dean listened to the ring, heard Sam pick up.  
"Dean is fine. She said to tell you I am with her." Pause. "No, she seems normal. She is disrobing."  
Dean stepped out of her pants then reached for the phone. "I promise I'll stay in the room until Dawn, Sam. Cas will make sure I don't leave, right Cas?" She grabbed Cas by the tie and held the phone to his face.  
Castiel said, "Right, Dean," just as Sam was saying something about washing his hands. Dean shut the phone off and tossed it aside.  
"Cas, I believe I promised you wouldn't die a virgin. It looks like I'm going to have to take care of that myself." She pulled him in by the tie until she was looking deep into those heavenly baby blues.  
"You wish to fornicate with me?" She felt a deep breath move his chest.  
Dean nodded. "Are you going to say no?"  
"No." In this case, Dean figured 'no' really did mean 'yes', so she kissed him. He put her hands on her hips to steady her against him.  
After the experience with Mike, Dean had wondered if she was a lesbian, but kissing Castiel was pushing all her happy buttons except for one. She broke the kiss and looked up at him. "Is Jimmy Novak still in there?"  
Castiel was staring at her mouth and she had to tug on the tie to get his attention. "Jimmy's soul went to Heaven when Raphael smote the vessel. This form is my own."  
She kissed him again. He was mirroring her, matching tenderness to tenderness, force to force, tongue to tongue. When she pulled back from the kiss again, he tried to follow her, and when she turned her head to the side he kissed her passionately on the ear.  
She started pushing his trench coat off. "We're in the same boat, then."  
"We are not in a boat, Dean."  
"Let's get some of these clothes off you. I mean, new body, feeling things for the first time, right? So we'll do it together."  
"I would like that, Dean." He shrugged trench coat and suit jacket off in one motion, then started working out the shirt buttons.  
"Oh, Cas, you have no idea how much you're going to like it," Dean said, and yanked her t-shirt off over her head.  
The angel stared at the jiggling flesh. "Does that feel uncomfortable?" he asked, his voice going a note deeper.  
"Cas, it feels _great_. Let me show you."  
The tie stayed on all night.

  
end

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have never taken a Women's Studies class.


End file.
